


The Game of Princes

by Darklady



Series: Prolix-verse [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M, yes it is really that cracked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darklady/pseuds/Darklady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When everybody loves you... eventually you need to get some sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game of Princes

**Author's Note:**

> JLA #50 spawned this. Blame them - not me. I own nothing! (Drat!)

Concealed by shadowless dark, the Batman snaked out one careful finger towards the glowing display at the far edge of his vision. If he could only...Yes. A few careful clicks entered the new commands that were the backbone of his strategy. This was dangerous. His opponent was almost as resourceful as the Batman himself, and could be equally merciless. No matter. Great risk was justified by great reward.

* * *

*Brrring*

Bruce Wayne blinked as he fumbled for the telephone beside the bed. What time was it anyway? He fumbled for his watch with one hand as he pulled over the receiver with the other.

“Wayne here.”

“Obviously.” The voice of a very annoyed Lucius Fox snapped over the line. “The question is, why aren’t you here?”

“Sorry Lucius. Alarm didn’t go off.” One glance at the dark-haired figure wrapped around Dick and Wayne suspected he knew why. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Bruce?” A sleep thick voice rose from the pillows.

“Just the office.” Bruce answered.

Dick Grayson closed his eyes and rolled into the remaining source of warmth. Which, Bruce Wayne imagined, had been the Batman’s plan all along. Damn. And he had so been looking forward to a lazy morning on one of Dick's rare days off from the BHPD. Breakfast with Dick on the patio. Dick for breakfast - well before they got to the patio. A few laps in the pool. A few licks in the bedroom. A nice pounding run with Dick. A nice pounding by Dick - period. All the simple pleasures of a morning at home. As it was... Bruce would be rushing to the office without even breakfast while that ... costume...got to snuggle in with Dickie. Batman was evil, Bruce decided. Truly evil. Clever, of course, but still evil. Fortunately, Bruce realized, a long board meeting should provide all the time required to plot his revenge. For now? Bruce leaned over and dropped a kiss on the scattered curls of his ‘boy wonder’. 

“I’ve got to go downtown now. You rest and I’ll call later.”

“Uh. ’hats nice.” Dick Grayson muttered from his cocoon of bedding.

‘Not now, it isn’t’, Wayne thought, clicking off the lamp. ‘But it *will* be.’

* * *

Batman watched from under slitted lids as Wayne grabbed a suit and headed for the bathroom. Excellent. The opposition was routed without even a fight, leaving him in full possession of the field - or in this case the bed. Concealed by the layers of blanket, he let one hand drift over the broad back of the handsome young man now pressed so trustingly against him. He turned his own face down onto one well-muscled shoulder to hide the any trace of a smile. In this case, possession was *more* then 90% of the victory. And Batman now had that. Possession of the field - and of the prize.

Still, patience is the virtue of strategists. Batman waited unmoving until the unmistakable roar of a Ferrarri engine confirmed Wayne departure. Only when the last faint tone had faded did the Batman allow himself to reach for his goal.

He didn’t open his eyes, but at the pressure of warm hands over his ass Dick rolled forward. “Nice” he muttered, kissing the scared left shoulder.

Batman said nothing. There was no need. Warm kisses down Dick's throat and the steady massage of broad fingers were all the communication required. One callused finger traced down the tight cleft to the narrow entrance. At the first pressure Dick's breath caught for a bit, but only briefly, and when the finger probed again he pressed back against it. By the time Batman reached for the carefully-scouted lube there was no resistance at all. Just heat, and pleasure, and union.

In darkness and silence they came together. Batman’s own breath caught as the heat encompassed his shaft, followed all to soon by the blinding pleasure of release. He felt more then heard the little gasps of pleasure that told him of Dick's equal enjoyment.

“This is how it should be.’ Batman thought. ‘Myself and Nightwing, without that Wayne nuisance to complicate matters.’

* * *

Bruce Wayne sat at one end of the massive oak conference table, and smiled, and doodled, and contemplated tactics.

So his opponent was clever. And ruthless. And skilled. And motivated. No matter. Bruce had faced such foes before and had not merely survived but triumphed.

So the prize was great. Bruce had fought Ra’s for the Cup of Christ and Luthor for the command of the Justice League and the Watchman of Heaven for the fate of the Universe itself. He reminded himself that Dick was not *that* much more important.

So this foe was *himself*. That troubled Wayne even less. He had a lifetime of practice in the struggle against himself. There, also, he had proved victorious. If this battle was a bit more ... external? It changed nothing.

He checked his Rolex. 10:30. Perfect. If the normal schedule held, the Batman should be in the middle of his morning run while Dick was finishing up his floor routine. Bruce pulled out his cell-phone. 

It was answered on the third ring. “Yes?”

“Dick.”

“Bruce?” It was a question. Bruce seldom called Dick from work. 

“I’m still in the meeting, but we should be out about noon.” Bruce kept his voice light. Casual. “Think you could come downtown about then?”

“Business?”

Bruce smiled at the hint of confusion. “Mostly pleasure, but a few things have come up where I could use your advice.” That was a weakness of the Bat. He seldom asked for advice. It was a weakness Bruce Wayne would gladly and accurately use against the Dark Knight.

“Sure, Bruce.”

“Thanks.” Another word the Detective faltered at, Bruce thought. He rocked back in his tall leather chair as the line went dead.

Done! Now Bruce had an hour and a half to come up with some question sufficiently interesting to legitimate that call. Perhaps the matter of that television station Lucius Fox wanted? Wally’s wife Linda had a show on that station. Wally was Dick's best friend. The conflict of interest could make it Titan’s business if you were willing to stretch a point. And because the question could *never* be resolved? Bruce smiled. He and Dick could work on the matter for as long ...or as little... as necessary.

* * *

The Batman returned to find Nightwing at the end of his ‘cool down’. That was wrong. By the schedule, Nightwing should be starting on the rings.

“Change of training?”

“Bruce called. Business. Asked me to meet him downtown.”

Touch! Batman acknowledged to himself. The adversary had seen his move and countered it. Very well. He had a move in return.

He waited until Nightwing was in the shower. Then he joined him.

The lights were low, and thick steam blurred the line of the gymnasts beautiful body. ‘No problem’, thought the Batman, sliding in between the pulsing jets. A true Master needed no vision to find his target. He plucked the soap-laden terrycloth away from the well-muscled chest before him and replaced it with his tongue. Strong fingers reached out in answer, but not for the washcloth. As his lips and the water followed the path of baby-fine, nearly invisible hair down, Batman felt those fingers reach out for his own. Urged upward, he rose to claim open lips. ‘Let Wayne have his *date*’ Batman thought. “I will have this.’

* * *

Batman did not turn from the monitor as the Vincent Black-Knight roared to life. No need.

Wayne might try, but he could never truly challenge the mastermind of the JLA. Batman had outmaneuvered an army of White Martians and out planned the forces of Vandal Savage and Solaris. How much trouble could one businessman pose? Even if that one man was himself? The conclusion was foreordained. Soon enough, Nightwing would realize that he belonged with the Bat alone.

* * *

“Dick.” Bruce clasped his ‘dear friends’ hand as they met at Wayne's office door. “Welcome.”

Right on time. He expected no less from Dick. Dick’s favorite pizza was fresh and warm on the oven-stone, and Shondra had been instructed to hold all calls regardless of the caller.

Dick took a deep sniff of fresh oregano as he headed for the overstuffed sofa. “What’s the problem?’

Bruce sat down beside Dick and opened a business report. “Lucius has been pressing to pick up television station in Keystone. I was about to sign in when I remembered Linda Parker-West.”

“Wally’s wife?” Dick asked, leaning into Bruce's shoulder to get a better angle on the papers.

“Exactly.” Bruce's hand slid over Dick's as he ran one finger down a list of employees’ names. “She has a show on that station.”

Dick pressed closer for a better angle. “And Wally is also...”

“Exactly.” Bruce nodded. “Things are ...confused... enough just now. I don’t need to add business troubles on top of Flash’s *other* difficulties.”

“Damn straight. But I don’t see what I can do...”

Bruce closed the folder. It had served its purpose. “You’re West’s friend, which I don’t think I can say about *either* of me. Do you think you could discreetly...sound matters out? If Linda was... agreeable... then having her in the family could be a good thing. But I do not want West to see it as a ‘Bat” activity.” Bruce dropped the papers on to the side table. “This will be strictly a business investment.”

“Smart.” Dick thought a moment. “I could do that. At least one of him will be at the Titans training session, and afterwards I can cage an invite back to Keystone for dinner.”

“Good idea.”

“That all you wanted?” Dick looked up into blue eyes drawn *very* near.

“Well. No.” Bruce smiled. “There is one thing more.” 

Pressing Dick back against the soft leather, Bruce dropped a kiss on the hollow framed by the open collar of his shirt. Then another an inch below. Then another below that. Quick fingers unlatched each button in turn, replacing it with kisses and soft bites.

“Oh my love.” Bruce's voice whispered over one cherished nipple. “I do *so* want *you*. So *love* you. ”

By the time Bruce reached the first snap of Dick's jeans, Grayson was reaching himself to undo them. Pushing aside the hands, Bruce substituted his teeth and tongue.

Hands empty, Dick reached instead for the silk tie tickling the first fur below his waist. It was a nice tie, but for now it was in the way. Agile fingers got busy. It landed on the floor, and was quickly buried by Bruce's vest and shirt.

The constriction of tight denim bunched at thigh level was constricting, but Grayson had years of practice dealing with bonds. One strong push and a twist, and a bit of luck... ‘Nailed the dismount’. Dick mused as he found himself now on top and reversed. Perfect position to return the favors so clearly anticipated.

One button, one zipper, and Dick revealed a rich mass of sable curls surrounding a richer, massier prize. He licked a tiny drop of salted cream from the tip. ‘Yes’, Dick thought as he savored the familiar taste, ‘very rich indeed’. He whispered, “I love you too, Bruce.” Then he could say nothing at all.

* * *

They were still snuggling under a cashmere throw when Dick's watch alarm went off. “Holy?” Dick looked at the dial. Where had the time gone? “ I’m late.”

Watching Dick bend to retrieve his jeans, Bruce Wayne contemplated his once-wards future. His near, delightful future. Perhaps it was time to reclaim those season tickets? The Opal City game was predicted to be exciting. And it would be far from Gotham and it’s intrusive shadows. He and Dick could have *fun*.

“Call J’onn at moonbase.” Bruce Wayne suggested, pulling Dick back into his embrace. “He’ll beam you over.” Which meant they would still have time to shower and finish the pizza.

Luckily an ovenstone keeps pizza hot for a very long time.

* * *

Dick opened the door to his apartment with a feeling of relief. Titans training had gone smoothly despite the outside ‘confusions’, and Damage was finally starting to integrate into the team. Nightwing understood the trust issues had held him back, so he was all the happier for Grant now that he had seemingly overcome them. 

He had also had a chance to chat with Wally, and while the Flash was surprised at Wayne's interest in Keystone City broadcasting, he didn’t think Linda would object to the change. Just in case, Wally promised to talk it over with his wife and get back to Dick.

Dick had called Bruce with the news during the flight back, and Bruce had been gratifying pleased at Dick's efforts. They agreed to meet for dinner at Dick’s place the next night to talk things over after Wally had a chance to get back to Dick. That was a nice change, Dick decided. The old Bruce had seldom come to Bludhaven.

His sense of satisfaction lasted all the way to the kitchen table. There, between the butter and the salt, lay a bat logo'd paper. Dropping the satchel with his costume, Dick quickly read the note.

‘Batman has been busy’, Dick thought as he mentally located the wharf area address. ‘Or lucky’ he added as an after thought. Nightwing had been watching Mrs. Minh and her crew for months waiting for the rumored heroin shipment. Batman had found it.

Dick pulled off his shirt and reached for a fresh combat suit. He might be tired, but never to tired for *that* lady.

* * *

Batman was waiting in the shadows of the warehouse facade.

“Any...” Nightwing began to ask before a quick gesture silenced him. Two men had emerged from the dock watchman’s shack - and from their striped suits and gold chains Nightwing concluded they were *not* members of the longshoremen’s union.

* * *

The battle was brief, vicious, and predictably one-sided.

This being Bludhaven, Nightwing did not suggest waiting on the street for the police. Given Redhorn and his policies, the arrest of fifteen armed drug dealers was uncertain, while the attempted arrest of two vigilantes would be guaranteed. Instead they set off the alarms, then retreated. Good enough. Even if the cops passed on the purps, the drugs and money would never reach Desmond's hands.

“That all?” Nightwing asked the cowled shadow beside him, referring to the criminals below.

“Not quite.” Batman answered. With cobra speed firm lips claimed those of the blue emblemed man beside him. Tongue tangled and gloved hands gripped as the kiss was enthusiastically returned. Only when the gauntleted fingers reached lower did Nightwing step back.

“Not here.” The younger hero said. “Meet me back at my apartment.”

Batman nodded and shot out a jump line. Within seconds he had vanished into the night.

Nightwing spun over a few roofs until he reached his concealed bike. Sitting back carefully, Dick pressed the code that started the powerful motor. He shook his head as he activated the communications link. The situation was getting out of hand.

* * *

It was late - very late - but the lights were still on at the Grayson place.

Dick looked at the two identical sets of eyes that were now identically avoiding his own.

“Look guys” he said. “This jealous lover routine is all very flattering - but it’s also frankly exhausting.” He mentally added ‘wonderfully exhausting’, but under the circumstances properly kept that thought to himself. “Remember, there’s only one of me. So either the two of you get your game together and work things out - or as of now there’s going to be *none* of me. Got it.”

Bruce looked at the Batman.

The Batman looked at Bruce Wayne.

They got it. At least.... if they wanted to ‘get it’.... they had better.

 

 

And no, I don’t have the sense to stop. Still not THE END.

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©KKR 2011


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